


dešimt

by peacefrog



Series: Hannibal Cre-ate-ive Events [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He reached out blind and caught Hannibal’s hand, brought it to his lips. A weakened kiss pressed into the center of the devil’s palm.</i> </p><p>A story told in ten 100-word parts, each sealed with a kiss. Set immediately post-fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dešimt

i. 

Will’s hands and knees dug into the shivering earth. He couldn’t feel it, far past the point of frozen numb. 

_Hannibal._

In a panic, Will’s head whipped around in the blue-black night, the ache in his bones singing as he turned back toward the water. Hannibal’s limp form, suspended in a moonbeam, was floating just out of his reach. Will dove in, frantic, his last bits of strength eking out to pull Hannibal ashore.

They collapsed half submerged in lapping waves. Will curled around Hannibal like seafoam to a cliff’s face, lips grazing his cheek as the world turned dark.

—

ii. 

Consciousness came to Will in light and shadow, the room a choking fog. His body felt like stone, surfacing before sinking to the bottom.

Lighter than air he moved— no, was carried, floating from one room to the next. He opened his eyes a sliver. The light in the new room was dim. He fell until he hit the water— no, he was lowered gently until submerged. 

A tub, of course. Hannibal sponging at his skin. He reached out blind and caught Hannibal’s hand, brought it to his lips. A weakened kiss pressed into the center of the devil’s palm.

—

iii.

“You were dead,” Will croaked. He could barely move his head or lift his arms.

Hannibal closed his book. “So were you.” He moved from the chair to the far side of the bed. “You slipped away several times, actually.”

“How…” Will swallowed around his words, throat dry and aching. “How did we get here?”

Hannibal brought a straw to Will’s lips. The water was cool on his tongue.

“I managed.”

Will turned his face toward Hannibal. “Come here.”

The parallel lines of their bodies curled inward. Will craned his neck, closed his eyes. Their lips met, soft and warm.

—

iv. 

Hannibal shifted in his bedside chair, eyes trained on the setting sun. “Will you go home? Once you’ve healed...”

Will pushed himself up to lean back against the headboard. His mind had begun to clear. “I don’t even know where we are.” 

“Not a day’s drive from Maine. Near the sea.”

The curtains fluttered. Will could smell the salt on the air. 

“Is that where my home is?”

Will reached with all his strength for Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal gave it freely, his warm fingers slipping into Will’s cool palm. 

Will kissed each knuckle, languid. Hannibal whispered out a broken sound.

—

v. 

Will ached from the soles of his feet to the back of his skull. He got up from the bed slow and shuffled to the bathroom. The door was ajar and the light was on. Inside, Hannibal was soaking in the clawfoot tub.

“If you needed to get up, you should have called.”

Will groaned as he knelt down beside the tub. “I can walk.”

Hannibal’s face softened in a smile. Will rested his head against the side of the tub, Hannibal’s wet fingers carding through his hair. Will pressed a kiss into the crook of Hannibal’s elbow. He sighed.

—

vi. 

Will turned his face and closed his eyes. Hannibal began snipping away at his stitches.

“It’s healing nicely. There are things we can do to minimize the appearance, but I’m afraid you will be left with a scar.”

“I’ve amassed quite the collection.”

“Memories we wear in flesh.”

Hannibal pulled the final suture free and Will opened his eyes. The silence that followed was heavy, like scar tissue on the air. Will scattered it like smoke as he leaned in, their foreheads clacking together.

Years of ache distilled into a moment, their lips barely brushing. Hannibal trembled behind his eyes.

—

vii. 

Will dreamed of falling, endless. He woke with his heart dashing itself against his ribs. He gasped for air, reaching for Hannibal.

“Come here, but be mindful of your shoulder.”

Will curled into Hannibal, buried his face in the hollow of his throat. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, tears prickling his eyes. “I don’t think I really wanted us to die.”

Hannibal pulled Will closer. “We survived. The rest is subtle details.”

“Being suicidal isn’t a subtle detail.”

“Are you feeling suicidal now?”

Will let his eyes click shut. “No.” He pressed a kiss into the warm skin at Hannibal’s throat.

—

viii.

Will wandered from their room out into the house. It was vast and bright, all clean lines and white furniture. Banks of windows overlooked the Atlantic. They hadn’t travelled far.

He found Hannibal outside, watching waves batter rock. 

“How can you be sure we’re safe here?”

Hannibal turned to him, wind rustling his hair. “Do you trust me?”

Will knew what his answer should be. “I’m compelled to say no, but I’m tired of lies.”

“Then trust we are safe, for now, though we should be moving on soon.”

Will kissed the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, once. The sea swelled.

—

ix. 

Will fidgeted with his wedding band. The sea hadn’t taken it. Neither had Hannibal. He pulled it off and set it on the kitchen counter with a clink.

Hannibal peered over his coffee mug at the thin band of gold. As Will moved about the room it caught the light like sparks. 

“Where will we go?”

“Where would you like to go?”

Will stood behind Hannibal and gripped his shoulders. “Somewhere warm,” he said. “I’m tired of the cold.”

“South, then.”

Will leaned forward and breathed in Hannibal’s hair. He pressed a kiss into his crown. Hannibal inhaled deep, slow.

—

x. 

The evening sky turned to pink and amber fire, daylight bleeding into dusk. Open windows splashed the sunset across the kitchen floor.  
Will winced as he rolled his shoulder. Hannibal ceased his rhythmic chopping. 

“You should take your medicine.”

Will rounded the counter and pulled the knife from Hannibal’s hand. “I don’t want to be trapped in a fog.”

Hannibal let Will pull him close. “What do you want?”

“This.”

Eyes falling shut, their lips melded, the drag of their tongues sugar-sweet, unhurried. A broken whimper escaped from Hannibal’s chest. Will swallowed it down, smiled, pink lips edged in teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com)!


End file.
